


Divine Intervention

by fangirl_squee, madelinestarr



Series: the bird, the book, the shield [6]
Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinestarr/pseuds/madelinestarr
Summary: A look into Hadrian and Sabrina's wedding night.





	Divine Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> An interlude, of sorts, that originally we weren't going to post - about half way through writing the series we started joke-talking about this as a concept, and it sort of got away from us (which, really, could be the summery of this whole series).
> 
> thanks to lexie, for betaing, and for everyone we showed this to in Secret for encouraging us to post this.

Sabrina sinks onto him with a soft sigh. If Hadrian were being honest - and he always tries to be, even when he’s not required to by his god - the sound Sabrina makes when they’re like this might be his favourite in all of Hieron.

 

She rises and falls slowly, reaching up to push her long hair out from her face. Even in the dim candlelight, it shines like the sun, and he aches to be able to reach out and touch it. 

 

He would, if he could, but Sabrina is surprisingly good at knots for a woman who has spent most of her life on land. He probably couldn’t free himself without taking half the bedframe with him, and that doesn’t feel like an especially good omen for the start of their marriage.

 

Besides. He’s not opposed to being in this position. Not with her, anyway.

 

Still, his wrist flexes experimentally, testing the silken cord. Sabrina’s motions slow even further. Sabrina puts a hand on his bound wrists lightly, the other braced against his chest. She’s leaning on it slightly, using it to leverage herself as she moves, painfully slowly now.

 

Hadrian whines.

 

Sabrina intertwines her fingers with his. The touch of her skin is more than welcome despite the awkward angle.

 

“Too tight?” asks Sabrina.

 

“No, I told you, it’s- it’s fine,” Hadrian manages, his voice hitching with her movements.

 

Sabrina smiles at him, speeding back up. She trails her hand back down along the side of his face and down his neck to meet her other hand, and he leans up into her touch, as far as he can.

 

When she leans down to kiss him, her can feel her hair brushing against his skin, and he shivers, his hips arching sharply up into her.

 

“ _ Hadrian _ ,” Sabrina gasps into his mouth.

 

“Alexander,” says Hadrian, feeling his lips brush against her’s as he speaks, “Just for tonight I am Alexander, citizen of Velas, and I serve only you.”

 

Sabrina kisses him again, deeply. She leans forward, her hair brushing against his chest, to whisper in his ear. 

 

“ _ Alexander _ ,” says Sabrina, her voice soft, barely above a breath.

 

Hadrian lets out a long breath.

 

Sabrina kisses a trail from his ear, along his jawline, until she’s looking down at him again, still moving against him, slowly.

 

“We’re  _ married _ ,” says Hadrian softly.

 

He knows he must sound ridiculous - he’s been saying it all day since their wedding ceremony ended - but Sabrina smiles fondly down at him. 

 

“Yes,” says Sabrina, “we are.”

 

She speeds up her movements, and it’s hard to manage words after that.

 

 

After, Sabrina carefully releases his wrists, running her fingers over the faint red marks. They leave the cord tangled in the wrought iron frame of the headboard. 

 

After all, they have the whole weekend before either of them has to be anywhere.

 

They fall asleep, as tangled together as the rope above their bodies and the ribbons pinned above their door, under the warm covers.

 

 

Hadrian dreams.

 

 

He’s in the countryside, somewhere he’s never been before. It’s not completely unfamiliar - the sky is still blue, the sun is still bright - but the landscape is nowhere he recognises. Behind him is a thick forest. In front of him is a big house, old and grand.

 

In the doorway is Samothes.

 

Even in a dream, Hadrian’s eyes  _ burn _ to look at him. He’s the most beautiful man Hadrian has ever seen.

 

The corner of Samothes’ mouth curves up, and he holds out a hand, gesturing for Hadrian to follow him.

 

The inside of the house is dark compared to outside, and it takes Hadrian’s eyes a moment to adjust. The rooms of the house are bare. The few pieces of furniture there have sheets draped over them, and the few paintings on the walls are covered in a layer of dust, obscuring the colours beneath.

 

As Samothes draws him around a corner, he sees a second version of Samothes. Or rather he knows, the way you do in dreams, that this is the same Samothes, just in two different places. The only difference being that  _ this _ Samothes is holding his wife’s hand. She blinks, looking surprised (he imagines he probably gives her a similar look), before it fades into a smile. 

 

It’s the same smile she’d given him on their first introduction, the same smile that he’d seen as she walked towards him down the aisle. Hadrian likes that smile. Loves it, even.

 

As they get closer, Hadrian can only see one Samothes. This, too, makes sense to him. All things are possible in dreams. 

 

Samothes opens the door in front of them, leading Hadrian and Sabrina into the room beyond.

 

This room is unlike the others. This room is made bright by the large open window along one wall, letting the warm sunlight stream in. The furniture of this room is not covered by cloth, an intricately carved wooden dresser made of a dark, polished wood, a tall cupboard, and, taking up what feels like most of the room, the biggest bed Hadrian has ever seen. The sheets are a deep, wine-coloured red.

 

“I understand you were married today,” says Samothes.

 

It’s the first words Hadrian has heard Samothes speak, and it knocks the breath right out of him. Sabrina slips her hand into Hadrian’s. He can feel her trembling, or perhaps it’s him.

 

“Yes,” Hadrian manages.

 

“The list of wedding traditions is a long one,” says Samothes.

 

“Yes,” says Sabrina. “Some of them are even pleasurable.”

 

Hadrian thinks he makes a choking sound.

 

Samothes inclines his head, smiling faintly. “Yes, they are.”

 

He regards them for a moment. Hadrian feels as though Samothes is looking into the very core of him, deep into his soul. His gaze is as hot as the sun. Hadrian squeezes Sabrina’s hand, and she squeezes back.

 

Samothes steps forward, and puts a hand of Hadrian’s face. Hadrian freezes. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Samothes take Sabrina’s free hand and raise it to his mouth, brushing a kiss across the knuckles.

 

Hadrian lets out a long, shaky exhale, and Samothes’ mouth curves upwards again, leaning forward to kiss Hadrian.

 

If Hadrian were honest - and, again, he always tries to be - this isn’t the first time he’s had a dream like this involving Samothes. He’s always been a little  _ too _ devout for his own good.

 

This dream feels different. Samothes’ hands feel warm,  _ so  _ warm, on his skin. The sound of Sabrina’s sharp inhale seems so loud it feels as though she must be right next to his ear. The air feels heavy somehow, the way it does before a storm. 

 

“The bed is big enough,” says Samothes, “if you would like.”

 

“Yes,” breathes Sabrina.

 

Hadrian nods, not quite trusting his voice.

 

He doesn’t remember undressing, nor does he remember undressing anyone else - one moment Samothes is touching him through fabric, and the next his bare skin.

 

Hadrian gasps. Or he hears Sabrina gasp. Or both.

 

The room takes on a hazy quality. 

 

Samothes touches Hadrian, and Hadrian also watches as Samothes touches Sabrina. Samothes runs a hand up Hadrian’s back. Hadrian watches as Samothes’ same hand cups Sabrina’s breasts. Sabrina’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as she leans into Samothes’ touch. Hadrian does the same, biting his lip as his body follows Samothes’ hands.

 

Hadrian and Sabrina’s eyes meet as Samothes pushes into both of them. Hadrian reaches out from his position on the bed and tangles their hands together. Sabrina’s nails dig into Hadrian’s hand a little, grounding him.

 

This is certainly more detailed than Hadrian’s other dreams, almost overwhelmingly so. Everything feels too bright, too real, every sensation is  _ more _ than he’s ever felt it. He feels like a raw nerve, as though lightning or fire has replaced his blood, like he’s shaking apart, being remade by Samothes’ brilliant touch.

 

Behind him, Samothes groans and Hadrian thinks he can feel the vibration of it in his  _ bones _ .

 

The world shudders, turning white.

 

 

And then Hadrian wakes up. It takes him a moment, blinking up at the ceiling to remember where he is, and another moment to realise why the sheets feel so uncomfortable. He can feel his face heat up, and he looks down to Sabrina to see if she’s still asleep, hoping he can go and clean off before she awakens.

 

Sabrina is already awake, looking up at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed.

 

“Um,” said Hadrian, “I can explain- that is, this doesn’t- I mean, obviously this happens, but I haven’t- not since I was a  _ teenager _ -”

 

“Hadrian,” said Sabrina, “No, it’s fine, I- here-”

 

Sabrina takes his hand and put it between her legs. She’s wet. Very  _ very _ wet. His fingers slip inside her easily and she gasps and flinches a little in the way that she does when she’s too sensitive still. He moves his hand to her hip instead, rubbing small circles with his thumb. He can still feel the wetness on his fingers.

 

“Did you have a dream,” says Sabrina slowly, “about a big, old house-”

 

“Where the air felt heavy-”

 

“-and the house seemed lonely, somehow, and a big bed, with red sheets-”

 

“Yes” says Hadrian, “yes, and in the house was…”

 

“Samothes,” whispers Sabrina.

 

“Samothes,” echoes Hadrian.

 

Sabrina leans up and kisses him. She reaches up to cup his face and he covers her hand with his own, slotting their fingers together. 

 

Things are hazy again, but not in the way of the dream’s overwhelming brightness. This feels more like late afternoon sunlight - warm and comforting.

 

They make love twice - once quickly and frantic, whispering to each other about the dream, about Samothes’ hands on them, about watching each other on the deep red sheets of a god’s bed, and a second time slowly, where they don’t talk at all, matching deep kisses to the slow rhythm of their bodies.

 

 

Afterwards, Sabrina presses her body close to his, her face nestled in the crook of his neck. He runs a hand slowly up and down her back. 

 

“Well,” says Hadrian, “I guess this means that Samothes approves of us.”

 

Sabrina laughs, bright and delighted, and Hadrian can feel it along his whole body where she’s pressed against him. Even after her laughter fades, he can feel her smile against his skin.

 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, smiling. 

 

 

He knows they will be happy together for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on twitter/tumblr: mariusperkins | madelinestarr


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